I searched for and found an old post of mine on Nook. There are words and concepts expressed in the following blog entry that, much like Nook, is unfamiliar to people who are not associated with Marlboro College. It matters not; I will catch you all up to speed in my posts to come.
It's reaching the brink of Wednesday, and I am one among many students sitting here in the Rice-Aron library amongst textbooks and tins of Bali Shag. My many nights of academic mastication have brought me close to the fruition of a successful school year, but I still need to complete a Geraldine Paper (oh, that iconic concept!) for a class just half a day from now. If I finish my 25-page defense of an unpopular tragic heroine before the darkness dissipates into cold morning, perhaps I will sleep. More likely, I will dilute my time spent studying with internet forays and distracted conversations, then finish and print with just enough time left to eat breakfast with friends who stare ahead with sober eyes at the exams awaiting them next week.
I've never seen the sunrise look as pretty as it did from the first floor of the grand quiet room on the morning of my first Marlboro all-nighter. Writing requirement was two days away, a full night's sleep about three. From the table furthest from the window one can see the rising sun from both floors, all the stereotypical colors associated with the daily turning of the earth glowing from behind the mountains.
Last night I left the library before the sun rose (but not before Jon Sheehy did), my body addled with the various health problems that sleep deprivation has been known to cause. Before I unplugged my laptop and resigned myself to an early rise, I dreamily watched the Gushee creation suspended from the library ceiling spin dreamily around and take shapes that only a college student on the verge of hallucinogenic fatigue can see.
When studying at night, one's perception of late and early relies on the amount of work that needs to be finished. A glance at the clock: it is 11:52, nearly always an "early time". Eleven fifty-two... it is getting late. This Nook post, a testament to my bouts of dedication and a record of my current procrastination, need finish here.